Quotes About Words

The Vazdru do not weep. Who weeps? Not I. Every word spoken was a tear.

This sight was terrible, more terrible than words can convey, for words are cowards as men are, and hide things as men do.

Les Vazdru ne pleurent pas. - Chaque parole prononcée fut une larme.

Having told of so much beauty, how is it possible to tell of her? There are no words left on the earth in any tongue that will do. Such words vanished from the world when it shook itself free from the ocean of chaos, in a cataclysm that reshaped it like one of the balls small children throw in the air at play.

You, Book! You are the only one who won't deceive, won't attack, won't insult, won't abandon! You're quiet - but you laugh, shout, and sing: you're obedient - but you amaze, tease, and entice; you're small, but you contain countless peoples. Nothing but a handful of letters, that's all, but if you feel like it, you can turn heads, confuse, spin, cloud, make tears spring to the eyes, take away the breath, the entire soul will stir in the wind like a canvas, will rise in waves and flap its wings!

Because once upon a time, we grew up on stories and the voices in which they were told. We need words to hold us and the world to behold us for us to truly know our own souls.

I have a confession. Oh? I can't get you off my mind. His statement robbed her of words. Heat spread down the nape of her neck. He was saying too much. ~Thomas to Chelise

He did change history. He did, he did!" Gabil hopped again, twice, lost his footing, and toppled to the floor. He bounded to his feet and did a little jig of sorts. "Ha! It's fascinating! It's magnicalicious!" "Please, settle down. That's not even a word." "Why not?" Gabil said. "If Thomas can change history, I think I have the right to change a few words.

Remember, Caleb, words are weak instruments of love. They can do many things, but they do not carry the truth like your hands do. People need to be shown, not told.

The world around him began to dim. Sylous's final words sounded far away as Jamie's consciousness faded. "I need you. I need all of you.

And you will never know what a battle I fought to keep the meaning of my words Solid with the world we were making.

In writing these poems about relatives, I found it almost impossible to write about the mother. I was stuck. My feelings about my mother, you see, must be too complicated to easily flow into words.

Education jargon is the language of pedants; it identifies those who have so little confidence in themselves and their work that they seek to create a veil of words to hide them.

Words are a net to catch beauty. in The Field of Blue Children (short story)

It's the quiet ones like you who are the most dangerous and cunning." "Me?" Elizabeth asked in disbelief. "I'm not the least bit quiet." "Perhaps not, but you do choose your words carefully." "Well, yes," she said with an unconscious tilt of her head. "I'm clumsy enough in body without tossing my mouth into the mixture.

Maybe they were back to not talking. That's what she missed the most: talking. Serious, silly, bone-deep, flippant, all their words and thoughts like gifts to each other, the only gifts they, with their hobbled hearts, could give.

How does one write about a president who uttered words appealing to white nationalists in 2020 and incited a violent insurrection against the U.S. Congress, but do so in the analytical language that one might use to describe tax policy?

Words have meaning, not life or persons or the universe itself," he said. "Our search for certainty rests in our attempts at understanding the history of all individual selves and all civilizations. Beyond that, there is only awe." From a Life Magazine interview in 1988.

Year after year. "Please don't make me go [to school]" "You have to go," Kim would say. "It's a new school, make a new start." "Sticks and stones." from Chip. Words will only kill you.

It was her way of saying, "You should kill yourself.

She touched the words with the tip of her finger and smudged the pencil and then saw how the smudge stayed on her finger. Words from his hand transferred to her skin.

Writers don't have bad life days; they just have good research days.

Detrás de este triste espectáculo de palabras, tiembla indeciblemente la esperanza de que me leas, de que no haya muerto del todo en tu memoria...

En suma, desde pequeño, mi relación con las palabras, con la escritura, no se diferencia de mi relación con el mundo en general. Yo parezco haber nacido para no aceptar las cosas tal como me son dadas.